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The boys dig in, heaping praise on their mother for always keeping their bellies full.
“Fantastic,” compliments Trent.
“Absolutely incredible,” growls Ford. “You did great, Ma.”
Maddy Morgan beams.
“I love to cook,” she says. “And I love it most when it’s for my boys.”
A blush rises on my cheeks again. Because I would love cooking for these men too, every day of the year. How strange that we get pleasure from the same thing, even though our viewpoints are completely different.
Conversation flows easily, but my nervousness grows because Marsha is all about making connections, and the Morgan boys are an opportunity not to be missed.
“Tell me about your law practice,” she coos, turning towards Ford.
I look at the big man, shocked. Really? Turns out that Ford, Mr. Motorcycle, is also an attorney. Who would’ve thought that this Harley-riding, barrel-chested alpha with the devil-may-care attitude would be a successful business lawyer?
But Marsha’s not done yet.
“Ford, maybe you could help Macy find an internship,” she hints, not so subtly. “Or you, Smith. Or you Sam. Do you think you could help?
Because it turns out that Smith is an investment banker, and Sam is a hedge fund manager who works on Wall Street.
I practically die of embarrassment. The last thing I want is a job putting together mindless spreadsheets, much less an internship that my mom forced me to take.
But Marsha’s relentless, pressing ahead.
“Or maybe you, Trent, you’re a doctor right?” she says then, swinging rabbit-like eyes his way. “Maybe Macy could get an internship at your practice.”
Oh god, the Earth should just swallow me whole now, I’m gonna shrivel up and die. But fortunately, the Morgans take it in a stride. This must happen to them a lot, they’re powerful men.
“No worries, we’ll figure something out,” says Sam smoothly. “With the seven of us, there should be a spot for Macy. Plus you know that Will and Tim have their own company right? I’m sure we can rustle something up.”
I shoot a grateful look his way. Because he’s tactful, intent on soothing my mom.
“Oh good!” Marsha chirps. “Good, if you two have your own company, then you’re the boss. You can definitely hook Macy up. See honey? That’s what networking does,” she beams proudly.
But Marsha’s proud of herself, not me. I barely spoke during this exchange, shaking my head again.
“Thanks Mom,” I say softly, head down. “Thanks so much.”
But soon the conversation moves on to other topics, and the boys and I stay silent, mostly. As we finish our meals, my mother and Mrs. Morgan clear the table, chatting about golf.
They bring coffee in, but only for the “adults.”
Mrs. Morgan shoots us a warm smile.
“Why don’t you boys take Macy down to the rec room and play? It’ll give us time to socialize,” she says, taking Marsha’s hand. “It’ll be so good to catch up.”
This is weird. These boys are full-grown men ranging from thirty to over forty. They all have careers and are crazy successful. Why is Maddy treating them like they’re babies? But I guess, in some ways, they’ll always be her babies, even if they’re hulking six foot giants now.
I’m about to excuse myself to head home, ready to be done with the awkwardness. As I open my mouth, though, Tim interrupts.
“Actually, that’s a great idea. We were all-state football players and there are a million trophies stored downstairs. Macy, wanna take a look?”
Trophies? I know nothing about sports. But like a good neighbor, my head nods.
“Oh sure,” comes my voice, calm and neutral. Wow, is that really me? “One of you broke a passing record way back when right?”
The boys grin at one another.
“We’re not so old,” Will says mildly. “It wasn’t that long ago.”
“But it was me,” says Sam smoothly. “I guess I’m ancient by your standards, but come take a look anyways.”
And with a smile, I nod. After all, there’s a farce to keep up in front of our parents, a secret that they shouldn’t know. Besides, what harm is there anyways? It’s just some trophies, dusty in a glass case.
We all rise and head down the stairs. The rec room is pretty big, with a bar in one corner and a pool table in another. One area boasts a huge, soft-looking sectional couch. I’d be willing to bet that thing saw a lot of action when the boys were growing up.
But they weren’t lying. There’s also a long row of gleaming trophies along one wall, and as I step up to look, from the corner of my eye, I see Will at the top of the stairs, locking the door from the inside.
Hmm, very interesting.
Does that mean …?
Must be, right?
I gaze at all seven men full-on then. They’re the best-looking group of alphas I’ve ever seen. Now I understand the statement “tall, dark, and handsome.” But I could also add intelligent, wicked, dominant, and arrogant to the list too. Plus, charismatic, sexy as hell, and panty-melting hot.
